


each night i count the stars

by akissontitan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fingering, Friends Who Are In Love And Fuck, Molly acts chill but u Know this ladys got abandonment issues, Other, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akissontitan/pseuds/akissontitan
Summary: The grass is green, the sky is blue, Yasha has to leave sometimes.





	each night i count the stars

**Author's Note:**

> Emerges from my cave to shout "THEYRE IN LOVE, BUT LIKE, IN A CHILL WAY THAT NEITHER OF THEM CARE TO OVERANALYSE!!!"
> 
> Genitals are left vaguely ambiguous but you Know everybodys trans here. Enjoy!!

_And now, each night I count the stars._  
_And each night I get the same number._  
_And when they will not come to be counted,_  
_I count the holes they leave._  
-Amiri Baraka

-

"Don't leave," Molly manages. He winces at how it sounds, strangled and soft like a scared child, but Yasha doesn't chide him for it. She just turns to face him, brow knitted minutely at the state of him, on the edge of their camp in just his sleeping clothes, and says what he knew she would.

"I have to. You know that, Molly."

The grass is green, the sky is blue, Yasha has to leave sometimes. Molly tries not to get too torn up about it, she always comes _back_ , but now, with this little troupe of almost-strangers, the idea of losing a familiar body stings a little worse. Molly takes a breath of cool night air, exhales it slow until his heart is calmer. "I know," he responds, keeps his voice airy and light as he can, "but… stay 'til morning, Yash. I miss you."

He knows he's got her when she takes a step back in his direction, though her arms remain crossed under her chest. "And what would you have me do until morning comes, I wonder."

That has him grinning, his heart beating high with elation rather than anxiety. He closes the few paces between them, lets her draw him close under her cloak even though he isn't cold. "I _suppose_ ," he drawls, "you could fuck me? Just a passing thought I had. You know."

Yasha smiles, wry and content all the way up to her mismatched eyes, and Molly knows they're going to be alright.

-

There's a spot a few trees deep into the forest that's good enough; Molly hardly cares about being spotted and Yasha doesn't argue when he backs himself against the trunk of a giant, old willow and beckons her close.

"Anything you have in mind?" She mumbles against the tattooed feathers on his neck. She has to bend awkwardly to do it despite Molly's efforts to make himself taller by standing on part of an exposed root, and, truthfully, it gets to him in a very good way. Her hands are big and cool against his waist and ass - _god_ , she wastes no time, he _loves_ her - and while her fingers roam up and down his thigh, he can only shake his head no to her question.

"Ah, whatever you're feeling, gorgeous. It's your going-away party." He rasps, finally, tail tangling up her thigh. "My only request is a few souvenirs to remember you by."

With that, he rolls his hips against hers, relishes the way the wind appears to be knocked from her chest. She doesn't let him touch her very often, not in the way that _counts_ , and his mouth waters at the few memories he has of the look of her.

"You always speak like I'm dying. I'll be _back_." The sincerity, _finality_ in her voice makes Molly shiver, deep pinpricks pooling in his spine. He knows her, he thinks, a little delirious as her hand finds his crotch through his pants. He _knows_ her, and she'll be back.

"Fingers?" Yasha asks, the low tone of her voice like warm cream in the brisk night air. Molly nods so hard his horns scrape the tree bark he's pressed against, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder when she tries to set him down and remove his pants.

"In the interest of haste…" He smirks, and shreds the seat of the linen leggings with two sharp claws.

Yasha's eyes go a little wider, pupils a little bigger, at that. "In the interest of your being a horny slut, more like." She mutters, but there's no bite to it, and besides, he's got no counter-argument. Her fingers find him, wet and ready, and Molly lets his head fall back against the tree trunk and grins at the stars.

Two fingers soon become three inside him, pressing at just the angle to have him crying out into her hair. He likes it when she doesn't think to tie it back; it's a fucking gift to tug it during moments like this, piss her off a little so she thrusts faster, less gentle.

Yasha gives as good as she gets, though, and with his eyes scrunched closed Molly doesn't see it coming when she bites down on him, sucks and worries the skin of his neck between her teeth. He always runs hot but right now he's _burning_ , smothered by the shape of her and the warmth of her various layers of furs. He wants to undress her, Molly thinks, bind her hands above her head and kiss her stupid, fuck her slow and easy like they so rarely get to do anymore. The thought has him dripping down her arm, he's sure, so close that his legs shake where they're crossed behind Yasha's back. 

What gets him is her relentless grip, blunt nails digging hard into his thigh, the taste of her sweat and arousal in the air when he flicks his tongue. What gets him is how deep she fucks him, pressed in like there's no rush, like she could keep him here for days and days. His hands find her hair and shoulders and neck, skittish and desperate as she curls and thrusts inside him, until fire rushes up through the nerves in his toes to meet him.

Molly comes loud, the forest swallowing what sound Yasha's lips can't hold, and she eases him through it gentle. His breath comes back to him before his legs do, and it must be Yasha who eases them both to the forest floor, his ankles still bound around her waist.

"Tomorrow morning." She says after a long, still moment, and rearranges herself so that she's leaning against the tree too. When Molly turns to look at her, her pale cheeks are turned up toward the moonlight. "Before the others wake up. You'll be there to see me off?"

The thought still tugs at his heart, but not nearly as bad this time. "Of course. Always." He replies. The stars look like they're moving across his vision. "But I am rather tired, and we need our rest. Perhaps you should go _tomorrow_ night."

Yasha hums a note of laughter. The moon stays lovely and full in her place. "Perhaps you're right."

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me about this campaign @ [twitter](http://twitter.com/nycreous) or [tumblr](http://nixiad.tumblr.com)!! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. Tell me your fave line!


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